


Maybe Its The Nargles

by delikitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 3rd year, Draco is still a prejudiced arse, F/M, Hermione just wants to focus, Subconsious attraction, Transfiguration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 23:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delikitty/pseuds/delikitty
Summary: Hemione thinks she's finally cracked under all her schoolwork. Why else would her eyes be forced to look at The Boy Who Is A Git?, or Malfoy got a glow-up and Hermione is (unwillingly) aware of that. Cheers.My first Dramione fic (my first HP fic, really)





	Maybe Its The Nargles

**Author's Note:**

> A quote from Margot Robbie that accurately describes me and this story:
> 
> "I'm not particularly good, but I like doing it." 
> 
> Wow, my Dramione obsession is really getting out of hand in my ordinary life, so I created this to -hopefully- get my bearings together. I don't think its working, really. 
> 
> Here Hermione is just like any other 14 year old girl.

 

At this point, Hermione was considering marching up to the front of the class and telling Professor McGonagall that her workload was too much and,  _yes_ , she would like to drop some classes. Specifically, transfiguration.

However, as soon as that absurd thought had manifested, Hermione immediately discarded it. Besides, Professor McGonagall has always been her favorite teacher and she had spent quite a lot of effort on getting Hermione the time-turner. Instead, Hermione thought furiously about how her... situation had come into existence. 

Seated a row ahead and several seats over, was the most positively revolting creature Hermione has ever had the displeasure of meeting. He was not in any close distance and she was convinced she hated him ( _Mudblood_ , he had distastefully hurled at her), so why, in Merlin’s double-knitted socks, were her eyes jumping to Malfoy?

Maybe, she thought distractedly as the git in question scratched away at his parchment with his quill (it was a nice one, too and Hermione always used that same quill model during particularly important lessons), Ron and Harry has cast a spell on her as a cruel prank. One that made sure that she looked at Malfoy every self-study periods Professor McGonagall allowed after her lessons. But her two friends were currently blankly staring at the “ _Transfiguration: An Art_ ” textbook with the pretense that they were actually taking the precious study time seriously, instead of shoving at each other and smirking at the expense of a very distressed Hermione.  

Or, she thought as she noticed Malfoy had a tiny dot on the side of his neck, Looney Lovegood had actually been onto something with the Nargles she was always talking about. Malfoy shifted to look at his crony beside him, exposing his hateful face to Hermione clearly, and sniggered at whatever stupid remark was made. White teeth flashed. So white and infuriatingly perfect, her parents would hanged a portrait of them in their office. As soon as she noticed his teeth, her eyes wandered south to rest on pale hands. _Very nice._ Elegant, long fingers. Clean, polished nails. Another mole.

Hermione stiffened as she caught herself doing _this_ again.

Her situation had started a few weeks ago. After she had been writing notes on particularly long and (dare she say it aloud, Ron and Harry would have a field-day) tedious paragraph in the textbook, her eyes decided to take a little rest, uncharacteristically breaking away from the text in front of her, taking in the zombified classmates struggling to understand the concepts of Transfiguration, passing over the stern glasses of Professor McGonagall. A golden _something_ had flashed at the corner of her vision. Naturally, her curious mind sought out the foreign intruder.

The sun was shining quite beautifully that day, gratefully welcomed after weeks of dreary, cloudy skies. It had set the room aglow, casting away the usual shadows of the classroom and highlighting what she loved best about Hogwarts. The merry light had also decided to get itself caught in Draco Malfoy’s hair in the process as well. Hermione subconsciously watched, with vague interest, at how the blonde strands gleamed and shone. Could hair even do that? Hermione’s own unmanageable brown hair sighed.

Her eyes had widened as she caught herself _thinking_ about _Draco Malfoy’s hair._ As soon as she had realized, “shone” and “gleaming” were thrown out of her mental vocabulary and “hideous” and “unsightly” took its place automatically. _Brilliant,_ Hermione had thought at the time, _go and ask him out for a cup of tea while you’re at it, why don’t you?_

After that event, more thinking involving gits had only increased (to Hermione’s dismay). Precious time that was meant to be used for learning was now being lent to inspect her loathsome enemy. Even the passing snide comments in hallways and ugly smirks could not shake it. It seemed that the more Hermione willed herself to throw out the concept of Draco Malfoy, the more her mind strongly disagreed and rebelled with a fervor the Weasly Twins would be jealous of.

Now, after weeks of fighting, Hermione had somewhat eased into the new routine (mind you, _somewhat)_ and tried to understand _why,_ lest her sanity would go flying out the window.

Malfoy shifted in his seat again, the sunlight moved with him and reflecting off his hair in another dazzling effect _._ Hermione blinked several times in rapid succession 

Third year was proving to be favorable to Draco Malfoy. His pointy, proud features for the last two years were beginning to merge into something more pleasant, a little more rounded out. Thin cheeks were beginning to fill, making his cheekbones look sharp instead of gaunt. Sparse eyebrows were turning fuller and shaping themselves to where they were framing his face. Lips often pursed in that arrogant twist- well, they were still that arrogant shape- looked as if it were an imitation before. Now, it was infamously known in Hogwarts as the _Draco Smirk,_ uniquely his own and an expression that begrudging onlookers wanted to emulate. Grey eyes, so vivid to the point where it looked like silver, were mischievous, yet intelligently sharp. They tied in all his newly forming features to create a boy who was certain to become a haughty and noble, yet handsome young man.

Not classically handsome, no. But something far more interesting and more certain to grab- no, demand- the eye (as it had done to Hermione) than someone with the visage of Gilderoy Lockhart.    

Irritatingly enough, Hermione wasn’t the only one to discover Draco Malfoy’s new-found looks. Any girl with eyes could see it. Even the 5th years were giggling behind their palms as Draco passed by.

_Ugh._

Tearing her eyes away from Malfoy, Hermione made a sudden dive with her quill, and spots of black danced out of the inkpot.

She cleaned the spills with her wand, swearing to herself that by the next Transfiguration class, her senses would be gathered and her eyes would be glued to the textbook, not on the boy with silver eyes and sunshine hair. As it should be. 

Yes, Hermione concluded, it's definitely the Nargles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please Review!


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